My Pretty Lady
by likeasheep
Summary: Following an argument with Chazz, Jimmy moves out of their flat share. At a loss of what else to do, Chazz follows Coach's suggestion that he go watch the women's figure skating - surely, that will help cheer him up? Work in progress, SLASH warning.
1. Chapter One

**My Pretty Lady**

_Chapter One_

Chazz kicked at Jimmy's giant over-stuffed frog, his anger forcing the blue monstrosity to fly at an unnatural speed across the room.

Stupid ice.

He stalked over to their beds and sat heavily on the one closest to the door. Bright orange sheets did nothing to help his rage.

Stupid Stranz.

As he sat there, trying to calm himself, he became aware that he'd started to glare at the frog as though it had personally offended him.

Stupid Fairchild.

In a way, it had.

Stupid competition.

How dare it stare at him like that?

Stupid pairs skating.

He pushed himself to his feet once more and stomped over to where the stuffed animal had landed.

Stupid friends.

He picked it up by the scruff of its neck and stared into its unblinking eyes, ready to do some real damage.

Stupid Jimmy.

Chazz dropped to the floor, the frog still in his arms as he felt, for the first time in a long while, a real sense of despair.

* * *

It had started out like one of their standard arguments. The same pattern that Chazz had come to expect from the younger skater in their years of rivalry, and most recently, their years of friendship.

It had started out just like it. It followed the pattern.

"Morning, MacElroy," Chazz had said as he sat down next to Jimmy on the sofa. He leaned over, almost too close for comfort in his daily attempt at winding the blonde up.

Jimmy shifted slightly, eyes on the television which he'd been watching ever since he'd awoken, "Shut up, fat-ass," he mumbled, waving a hand in the general direction of his partner.

"They're called muscles, Jimminy," Michaels said as he patted his stomach, almost proud, "Maybe you should think about getting some once you've outgrown your training bra?"

Silence followed as Chazz was effectively ignored.

He quirked an eyebrow as he turned his attention to the news anchor that filled the screen before them, but beyond that rack on her chest, he couldn't seem to pay attention to what she was talking about until--

The brunette had to blink when he saw video footage of Stranz and Fairchild Van Waldenberg affirming their return to pairs figure skating after what Chazz could only assume had been a hefty bribe in the general direction of Commissioner Ebbers.

"Good thing we're beating them again this year," Chazz said finally, if only to break the long stretch of silence that Jimmy always seemed to make when he was angry.

"No."

"What?"

"I said, no."

"No what, Jimmy?"

"We're not beating them at anything, alright?"

Chazz rolled his eyes. He'd never heard such a self-defeating attitude from the effeminate man in all the time he'd known him.

"Don't be stupid, MacElroy."

"I'm not being stupid. We're not beating them--"

"Yes, we are."

Jimmy continued as if he hadn't heard Chazz's insistent tone, "--because we're not competing this year."

The silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity, barely punctuated by the suddenly muffled sounds from the TV.

"......what?" Michaels finally managed, staring holes into the side of his partner's hair.

"We're not competing."

"We are."

"We're not, Chazz, alright?"

"What do you mean, we're not? Why not? Chazz Michael Michaels never backs down from a challenge, and what they just said," he pointed accusingly at the black box from which the Van Waldenbergs had made their announcement, "Sounded like a challenge."

"And we're not taking it!"

Chazz scoffed, "You're high. What've you been taking, Jimmy? I'd like to meet the guy that gave it to you."

"Don't you remember what they did last time? They broke your ankle, Chazz!"

The sex-addict had a bleary moment as he closed his eyes at the memory.

The next time he opened them, he noticed that MacElroy was on his feet.

"Who knows what they could do next? They're not backing down."

"And we're not either!" Michaels stood too, just so that he could match Jimmy.

"We are not skating."

"Are."

"Not."

"Are!"

"Not, Chazz! We're not doing it!"

* * *

Chazz stared blankly at the stuffed animal in his hands that so reminded him of Jimmy.

All that had been a month ago now, but he could swear that his cheek still smarted where MacElroy had slapped him as he'd stormed out of the flat.

His eyes pricked with what he could only identify as some strange sort of sea water when a bead of it dripped down his nose and past his lips.

If he'd had the energy to stand and take a walk around the flat, he would only have found his own mess.

On that day, Jimmy had left and taken everything he owned with him. The stupid, stuffed frog was the only thing he'd left behind. Chazz guessed it was because the thing had been under one of the beds.

He hugged it tightly now, almost understanding what the blonde had seen in these things as more of that damned sea water dripped down his face.

Chazz hadn't seen Jimmy since he'd left, and it wasn't that he hadn't looked – he had, of course he had. Jimmy was his skating partner, and more importantly, his friend. He'd phoned him, he'd phoned all the people that knew him... Hell, he'd even phoned Katie, and she said that she'd not seen him since they'd broken up.

He'd asked Coach Robert, and he had no idea where Jimmy had gone either.

Chazz wiped at his eyes irritably.

He'd have to see a doctor about this mysterious sea water.


	2. Chapter Two

_Chapter Two _

Robert pulled a set of keys from his pocket as he walked up the steps to Michaels and MacElroy's flat, ready to deliver the most down-to-earth and insulting lecture in his arsenal.

"What... what do you think you're...?" he practised under his breath as he pushed the key into the lock and turned it, "You're doing not..." he nodded, satisfied, "Good."

A moment later, Coach Robert stood in what appeared to be a mostly-empty flat. He wavered in the doorway as he looked around for the familiar-looking stuffed animals and glittery throw pillows, but...

Nothing.

With a scowl, he walked further inside, the idea that he might be in the wrong flat suddenly dawning on him. He paused and gave the hallway a seething glare and, sure enough, he spotted something that looked as though it belonged to Chazz.

Said thing was in the living room.

Robert walked over to the scruffed brown, blue and red shag-pile carpet and gave it a slight kick with his boot.

The carpet groaned and rolled over.

"Michaels, get your fat ass off the floor."

Chazz sat up slowly, still clutching the blue frog as he attempted to put on something of his usual swagger.

"Alright, Bobbo?"

The Coach folded his arms across his chest, "MacElroy not home?"

When Michales' shoulders started to shake, he decided to take it as a no.

"Get up, take a shower, get dressed, and brush your hair. You look a mess."

"Why?"

"How am I meant to know? You probably haven't washed in days."

"No..." Chazz climbed to his feet, "Why?"

"Just do it, and I'll tell you later," Robert had started for the hallway, "You still got coffee?"

"In the... in the kitchen," the sex-addict mumbled as he went to go drop the toy in the bedroom.

* * *

A shower, ten strokes of a brush, a fresh set of clothes and a cigarette later, Chazz found himself sitting at the kitchen table. He sipped a too-hot cup of coffee that burned his tongue, but served to wake him up. After a moment, he put the mug down on a coaster, because mugs left rings, damn it, Chazz!

With an inward sigh, he tuned back into the questions that his coach and reluctant friend had been asking him concerning his ex-partner.

So far, he'd managed to more or less talk about their fight, and he'd been just about able to give the answer to the question that Robert had been dying to ask.

No, Chazz Michael Michaels and Jimmy MacElroy would not be competing in this year's Winter Sports.

He'd been expecting an explosion of anger from the old and greying man before him, and when all he did was sigh with disappointment, Michaels couldn't help but feel... what was that?

He frowned as he tried to identify the gnawing sensation in his gut.

Was that... guilt?

Coach Robert glanced up when Chazz's stomach rumbled loudly.

"Come on," he stood and started for the door.

"Where?" Michaels got to his feet, abandoning his coffee as he followed despite himself.

"Winter Sports Games."

"But I'm not--"

"The Women's Singles, wide load."

A long pause followed.

Chazz tried to think about all of the words of encouragement that Taylor had ever given him; the do's and don't's, the what-if's, the what-for's, the should's, can't's, and maybe's... He even tried the mantra in the back of his mind, but somehow, he just couldn't stop his feet from propelling him towards Robert's van.

* * *

An hour later, they were standing behind the railings as Robert watched one of his female skaters glide through her routine.

Chazz found himself as utterly transfixed as the crowd when the blonde launched into a stag jump before landing, perfect and flawless.

From somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard the Coach talking, and just about managed to take in what he was saying.

"--German, 28 years.... Came to me a few weeks ago, but she's good, am I right?"

The most that Michaels could muster was an unintelligible groan.

In hindsight, he probably deserved the slap to the back of his head, but that didn't stop him from swearing loudly and almost distracting the woman out on the ice.

"Stop eyeballing my skater, Chazz."

And he tried, he really did, but he just wasn't functioning properly under these conditions.

When she'd finished her routine, she skated off the ice to the sounds of applause, keeping her head down.

As the German competitor's scores were posted, she removed her skates, surprising no one when it turned out that she had qualified for nationals.

But still, Chazz couldn't stop staring. There was... there was something about her... something... He scowled as he tried to place what it was that he was missing. Every time he thought he might be close, the thought skittered away to be replaced with an incredible desire. Maybe a distraction might work?

"So, Coach... Where's, er... I mean, how's..."

Robert had moved to stand between his skater and the rapidly advancing sex-addict.

"You stop there. Now, I only brought you here to cheer you up, alright? You listen to me, Michaels. Just because you've ruined your shot at the gold this year, it doesn't mean that you're about to ruin Janine's."

"Janine," Chazz repeated, almost savouring the name as it rolled past his lips, "What a beautiful name..."

It was too late to stop it from happening as Robert was pushed to one side and Chazz made his way to the kiss and cry area, ready to sweep the blonde away to do some kissing of his own--

He stopped and stared.

She'd vanished.


	3. Chapter Three

_Chapter Three _

He couldn't believe how fast he'd run, but then, he couldn't believe how close Chazz had come to reaching him.

Jimmy sat in the back of the taxi cab, itching to pull his wig off as he gave the address of his new living space to the driver with his best German accent.

If he was completely truthful, he still couldn't believe that anyone at all was convinced that Janine really existed. It was just stupid!

But if it let him skate...

And this way, no one got hurt!

No one would get hurt, and everyone would be just fine. Provided that Chazz didn't realise that his brotherman was in fact pretending to be a woman, it could work. Everything would be fine.

He couldn't win, Jimmy knew. Coach had told him as much when they'd started.

Because if Jimmy won, then there would be tests, and if there were tests, then Jimmy would be found out, and if Jimmy was found out, then Jimmy would be stripped of his medal again, and then he'd probably be banned from all divisions of figure skating for the rest of his life, and that would mean letting everyone down––

Jimmy paused to take a deep breath as he looked at the bag that held his skates.

It would be fine, he decided as he fiddled with the skirts of his costume.

He would just have to try harder.

The skater frowned at himself. This was harder than he'd thought. He'd never entered anything in his life with the intention of losing before.

Keep focus and win. That was what he'd always been taught.

But his next routine... They would have to choreograph falls in just to make sure that Jimmy wouldn't rank for a medal.

He hadn't expected it to be so complicated when he'd suggested the idea to Coach.

* * *

He'd left the flat he'd been sharing with Chazz for eighteen months in tears. Jimmy had been certain that he'd never cried so much in his life – not even when his father had unadopted him.

The blonde had shouldered three duffel bags filled with stuffed animals and toiletries, packed all of his clothes into his suitcases and then, he'd walked out the door.

It had been hard going, but he'd just about managed to stay true to Miss Franklin's song; he hadn't looked back as he'd hailed a taxi that drove him to the home that Coach now shared with Jesse.

Thankfully, the only one home when Jimmy had come knocking was the dancer who welcomed the orphan in with open arms. If it had been Coach, Jimmy had no doubt that he would have been screamed at for being so stupid before the door was slammed in his face.

As things actually turned out, he'd been able to appeal to the better nature of the kinder man in the mismatched relationship that the blonde had never thought to ask about, despite what Chazz always––

The skater had started to sob the moment Jesse left the room to call someone named Robert, but as soon as his tears were noticed, the phone was replaced in its cradle, and the dancer had sat on the sofa, throwing a comforting arm around the blonde's shoulders.

"Tell me all about it," Jesse said when a pause finally came as the other man drew in a ragged breath.

And so, Jimmy told him.

Jimmy told him everything.

By the time he had finished, leaving just enough time for stray tears and the occasional sniff, Jesse was shaking his head in utter disbelief.

"James MacElroy, what are we going to do with you?"

Jimmy sniffed loudly.

"I'll tell you what, I'll phone Rob, and he'll come home and sort everything out, alright?"

The blonde nodded tearfully before asking the question that had played on his mind since he'd first heard the dancer use the name; "Who's Robert?"

Jesse gaped at him, "...your Coach?"

"Really?" Jimmy asked, stunned enough that he even forgot about crying for a moment, "I always thought that his name was Coach!"

Jesse shook his head as he stood up to find the phone again, "And I suppose you thought that my name was Mr. Groove-Pants," he said with a sarcasm that was utterly lost on the almost-naïve blonde.

* * *

When the Coach had left the bar, he'd expected to go home to a quiet night in with the man that he'd somehow fallen in love with.

But no.

Instead, he'd had a phone call from the same man before walking home in a foul mood.

"MacElroy, what do you think you're doing?" Robert asked the blubbering mess on his sofa.

"I did . . ." words he couldn't understand, " . . . and Chazz said when I . . ." the tears started afresh, earning a well-deserved sigh on Robert's part.

Eventually, he had to get the story from Jesse who was more than happy to pass on the gossip.

A few hours later, the tears had ceased to flow, and Robert couldn't help but wonder where his peace and quiet had gone to.

Obviously, it had flown out of the window at some point, perhaps never to return.

"Do you know what the worst thing is?" Jimmy said finally.

"You've had a fight with Chazz?" was Jesse's suggestion.

"No..."

"You can't talk to your friend?"

"No, not that."

"...you've had to move out of your apartment?" was the only thing that the dancer could think to suggest without causing offense.

"I won't be able to skate this year!"

"...you could always patch things up with Chazz?"

He shook his head, "Not if they can hurt him."

"What else are you gonna do, Jimmy, huh? Dress like a girl and enter the women's––"

Robert stopped at the look slowly dawning on the blonde's face.

"No, Jimmy, no."

"Yes! That's it! That's exactly what I'll do!"

* * *

The taxi finally stopped outside Jimmy's new apartment where he paid the driver and climbed out, half-enjoying the catcalls from the builders across the street. To be honest, he didn't see why girls got so worked up about it. It was a compliment!

He unlocked the front door and walked inside, dropping his skates in the hallway as he closed the door and pulled the wig from his head.

This wouldn't be easy.

What if Chazz found out?


	4. Chapter Four

_Chapter Four _

Jimmy stretched languidly on his bed until his hands came into contact with the floor, allowing him just enough purchase to crawl away from the mess of duvet that he always managed to leave behind him.

Once he'd just about managed to seat himself firmly on the wooden floor, he leant his back against his unmade bed with a yawn. If he ignored the stinging where his knees had hit the floor only moments before, then he felt fine, but he couldn't stop the frown that marred his features. There was something there.... Something else... A niggling doubt, something... It was there, housed right at the back of his mind. He scowled. It was so close, and yet he couldn't get a firm hold on it, almost like a dream that––

Jimmy gasped with the sudden realisation. It must have been a dream that was disturbing him.

Almost desperately, he tried to recall the events as they slipped slowly away, so close, and yet the more he tried to remember, the faster the memory of his subconscious defied him.

He sighed heavily when nothing made itself evident straight away, giving up before he'd even started.

As he climbed to his feet, Jimmy wondered dimly what it was that had awoken him.

With a dismissive shrug, the blonde padded into the kitchen, his thoughts still utterly distracted by whatever that dream had been, and he couldn't remember what time Coach and Jesse were meant to be picking him up for practice, and just _what_ had that dream been about?

Jimmy paused for a moment, backtracking through his own thoughts.

He froze.

If he had been any less delicate, then he might have sworn.

As it was, the blonde instead pushed at the curtains above his kitchen sink, wincing when he saw the pickup truck that was waiting for him. He risked a glance at the driver's seat, expecting to see angry faces on the couple...

Jimmy gaped. Where was Coach, and _why_ was Chazz in the seat next to Jesse, staring blankly at his phone?

He let the curtains drop before either of them could notice him.

He was fairly sure that he had never moved so fast in all his life as he ran back to his bedroom to get ready.

Half an hour later, Jimmy was almost out of the door when he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

He knew he'd forgotten something, he mused as he rushed back to the bathroom to pull his wig on.

It took him a moment to arrange the blonde curls in what he hoped was a natural way before he was finally satisfied with the woman that stared back at him.

Jimmy nodded, watching as Janine did the same.

Good.

* * *

Chazz sighed for what must have been the tenth time, by Jesse's count.

"What is it now?" the dancer asked finally, already fed up with such close proximity to the other man.

"How much longer is this gonna take, man?" Chazz asked, throwing his head back against the seat, thoroughly bored, and highly impatient.

"Now, just stop it. We've only been here an hour. She's not nearly as bad as you!"

Chazz snorted, "Are you jokering me? She's worse than Jimmy!"

Jesse couldn't stop his own sigh from forming at the lost look that slipped slowly over the sex-addict's features. Suddenly, it was hard to be angry with him when the boy was so obviously hurting...

Finally, after what seemed an age, Janine walked out of the front door, and Chazz sat up straighter in his seat as he watched her walk.

"Stare a bit harder," the dancer suggested as he started the engine, "I don't think she's noticed you yet."

The addict's jaw snapped shut, and he edged over to make room for the blonde woman who opened the truck door and, after a moment of what seemed to be deliberation, climbed in beside him.

She stayed quiet, avoiding eye contact with Chazz so much that Jesse actually laughed.

Chazz finally tore his gaze away from Janine so that he could observe the only other man in the car, "Brotherman?"

Jimmy glanced over, feeling a pang of what could be jealousy, when his ex-partner used that word with someone else.

"No, no, it's nothing," Jesse said with a quick shake of his head.

Jimmy was quick to avert his gaze when Chazz turned to stare at him again.

Eventually, the pickup truck stopped outside the skating rink, where Jimmy grabbed his bag and ran away from the vehicle as quickly as he could.

The sex addict stared after her.

"Where's she going?"

"Probably to get changed," Jesse replied quickly.

As he unbuckled his seatbelt, he noticed a chipped nail, and was about to look up and tell Chazz all about it when he heard the truck door slam.

The dancer chuckled as he sat back, regarding his nails. How predictable these boys were.

* * *

Jimmy pulled the jumper he'd brought with him on, feeling the traditional discomfort that always accompanied him whenever his hair got trapped under the collar.

He tilted his head forward, all ready to pull it free when he felt hands against the back of his neck, massaging small circles against his skin that were oddly soothing...

His first instinct being one of panic, Jimmy was about to pull away when they hit a spot on his neck that made it just impossible to hold back the low moan that eventually managed to escape his lips. And God, it felt good when his mysterious assailant pulled his hair free, and it felt even better when he pressed those little kisses down his neck, and oh––

As Chazz pressed chaste kisses to the German skater's skin, he breathed in deeply, unable to place her almost-familiar smell. It was like lilacs and... and was that a hint of cinnamon?

He let out his breath as he gave a voice to his thoughts, "You smell like..."

"Chazz!" Jimmy practically shrieked with realisation as he wrenched himself free of the other man's grip and span around to face him.

"I'm... I'm sorry, ma'am, it's just..." he shook his head mournfully, "I'm a sex addict, and I should have explained sooner, but––" he broke off, tearful.

Jimmy snorted. He couldn't believe what he was hearing!

"Get out of my face!" Jimmy spat as he tried to form even semi-coherent thoughts past that need for Chazz's lips to go back and do all that again––

The blonde distracted himself by picking up his skates and running from the changing room.

* * *

Jesse stood by the ice, ready for rehearsal when Jimmy came rushing in, his cheeks stained dark red by what was unmistakeable as a blush.

"What happened?" Jesse asked, trying his hardest to keep a straight face.

"What happened? What happened?! I'll tell you what happened––"

"Hi, Chazz," the dancer nodded in the addict's direction as he emerged from where Jimmy had been moments before.

The faux-German accent returned again as Jimmy fastened his skates on, "Nothing happened," he said with a finality.

Chazz stared as the blonde figure skater moved out onto the ice.

She hadn't said it.

She hadn't told Jesse what he'd done.

He felt his heart beat faster at the thought. She hadn't said anything, and she'd seemed more than receptive in the changing room...

Chazz's mind whirled with new ideas.

She wanted this.

It was absolutely mind-bottling.

Chazz was in with a chance.

As he let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, he just couldn't figure out why he, Chazz Michael Michaels, cared so much.


	5. Chapter Five

_Chapter Five _

Jimmy rested his head in his hands, heart beating fast. He'd been perfectly still for the best part of an hour now, unable to do much of anything other than stare vacantly at his wig which had been long-since discarded and spread across the floor before him. If he'd been in his right state of mind, he would have probably picked the thing up immediately and brushed it off, considering it to be absolutely atrocious in terms of proper wig care.

As things were, he couldn't even bring himself to lean forwards, much less pick anything up, and so instead, he fell back against his unmade bed, head spinning.

He was mortified. Completely, totally, absolutely mortified.

He just couldn't believe it.

Chazz Michael Michaels, long-term rival and short-term friend-slash-skating partner of Jimmy MacElroy, had as good as _kissed _him without even asking first.

Sure, Chazz had thought Jimmy to be very female at the time, and yes, Chazz had the excuse of being a sex-addict, so it was probably understandable that he'd made a move...

With a scowl, Jimmy realised that all the arguing in the world just couldn't justify that he had liked it.

He winced at the thought, barely able to admit it to himself. It wasn't right. He wasn't a woman, for one, and Chazz definitely wasn't interested in men, because--

The blonde covered his face with his pillow in a vain attempt to stifle his thoughts from being heard.

It didn't work.

He hadn't expected things to get so complicated.

Back when Katie had broken up with him, Jimmy had been angry at her. He'd shouted, and told Chazz that it was all her fault, because he had never done anything wrong.

Chazz had given his partner a shoulder to cry on when Katie had told Jimmy that things really weren't working out. Chazz had been there when she'd told Jimmy that it wasn't working out because of him.

The skater heaved a mournful sigh. She must have known.

But that didn't mean she was right.

He sat up, his heart lifting at the idea.

It didn't mean that it was true.

* * *

Through the silence, Jimmy heard the buzz of his doorbell, internally glad that he hadn't really bothered to get changed as he retrieved his wig from the floor and pulled it on over his hairnet.

It was such a crime that he had to deprive the world from seeing his beautiful hair, but it simply had to be done. It was just one of those things that couldn't be helped.

The next few dozen rings of the bell finally managed to spur Jimmy on just enough to tear himself away from the mirror before going to the door. As a second thought on his way, he picked up a pair of oversized sunglasses and pushed them on. After all, he thought as he undid the chain on his door before turning the latch, you never knew who might be out there.

Jimmy should have expected it, of course he should have. He'd been thinking about it enough, but when he saw Chazz standing on the doorstep before him, the only word that came to mind was "...uh?"

Taking this as an invitation, Chazz stepped over the threshold and into the German figure skater's home.

Finally, Jimmy managed to form a sentence as he slammed the door shut – too late.

"What are you doing here, Michaels?" he asked, only just remembering his accent as he placed his hands on his hips.

"Excuse me, miss..." Chazz trailed off, unable to prevent his eyes from roaming downwards, then up slightly, to focus on--

Used to this sort of attention after a solid month of pretending to be Janine, Jimmy caught Chazz's attention with a sharp gesture skywards, "My face is very much up here, you know."

The next thing he knew, the blonde found himself up against the wall with Chazz pinning him there.

It took him a moment to register that the hands at his waist weren't his own, and that the mouth at his ear that whispered useless nothings definitely wasn't his either.

But as he came to his senses, Jimmy couldn't stop a sudden surge of jealousy at Chazz's muffled words.

He pushed him away roughly, half regretting the loss of contact.

How dare he?!

He glared at him indignantly as Chazz started his traditional sex-addiction speech.

How dare he speak to Janine like that when Jimmy so plainly--

He paused at the abrupt realisation.

When Jimmy was so plainly in love with him?

"You should go..." he mumbled quietly, not trusting himself to look up just in case he managed to give himself away.

Chazz swallowed at the sound of her voice. It was just so... she sounded defeated.

"I'm sorry, miss, no," he shook himself, "Janine. I... I had no idea that the German people were offended by... displays of--"

"Please, just go. You probably know how to work the handle on the door," Jimmy mumbled, unable to even bring himself to create a decent insult as he brushed past Chazz and started towards his kitchen, throat suddenly dry.

"Wait!"

The blonde faltered in his steps.

"Dinner? I mean, I can do dates if that's what--"

"No. Just go."

Chazz stared before edging back towards the front door, hands seeking out the handle when he found himself unable to take his eyes off the skater as she left the hallway.

* * *

_Dinner?! _What had he been thinking? Chazz Michael Michaels did not do dinner. Chazz Michael Michaels did not take girls out because he didn't need to, because when Chazz Michael Michaels wanted a woman, then that woman wanted him. That was how it worked.

He scowled when he found himself sitting on Robert's sofa, a cup of coffee in hand.

It had become something of a ritual ever since he and Jimmy had won the gold. Once a week, Chazz stopped by, and he and Coach talked about men's stuff, the blokey-bloke stuff that Jimmy and Jesse would never dream of talking about.

Like when Coach told Chazz that he was starting to look fat again, and Chazz wouldn't answer because he couldn't think of a good-enough come back.

Or like that other time when Coach told Chazz that he looked as good as if he'd been run over with a bull-dozer.

Tradition.

But today, things would be different.

The sex addict really had something to talk about this time. Something important.

"Janine," he said as soon as the older man took his seat.

Robert sighed heavily, "Her again? Listen, Michaels, I'm not letting you get your paws all over my skater, damn it."

"You don't understand, alright? You don't get it. I... It's been tough for me. I've never--"

"Had a father, and since Jimmy left, it's been so hard on you. Yeah, yeah, Michaels, I hear it every week. It doesn't mean that I'm letting you near her."

"It's different!"

Robert rolled his eyes.

"It's never different, Chazz, it's always the same."

"I asked her if she wanted dinner. She... she turned me down."

"Of course she turned you down, Michaels, she's got a few brain cells to rub together, not like the ones you usually go for--"

There was a pause as he took in what Chazz had said.

"...you asked her out to dinner," he repeated as Jesse put his head around the kitchen door, having heard the entire conversation.

"Rob, can I have a word?"

The Coach waved his hand dismissively, "In a minute."

Chazz caught the enraged look in the dancer's eyes long before Robert did.

"It's okay. I'll be fine. You go, I can wait. Looks like the old ball and chain needs you."

The Coach stood with an oath before following Jesse into the kitchen.

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me, Rob."

"Fine. What's wrong?"

"You can't do this to him."

"To who? And just what am I doing?"

"To Chazz, and you know exactly what you're doing, Rob. You're not stupid."

"No, you're right, I'm not stupid, but I don't see what it is that I'm doing to him."

Jesse's tone was hushed, "You're hurting him by not telling him who Janine is. What if he found out?"

"He's not about to find out. We just have to keep them away from each other, that's all. Then, next year, they'll be back together, and they'll be ready to win."

"If things go too far and he finds out, you won't have a pair's team to speak of. They'll never work together again."

Robert sighed; Jesse was right.

"You tell him today, or they'll never win the gold again. You tell him now, and we can still save this. Still save them."


	6. Chapter Six

_Chapter Six _

While the coach and the dancer argued in the kitchen, Chazz slipped out of the back door, fairly certain that he didn't want to stick around for when things really kicked off. And then they would end up making up after....

Chazz pulled a face as he walked away from the angry couple's house. No, he decided in silence, he definitely did not need to be there when that happened.

* * *

An hour later, Chazz found himself lounging in one of the comfy chairs in his local coffee shop, double chocolate frappuccino and a packet of sugar in hand, all ready to pour it into his drink.

He couldn't stop his sweet tooth at times like this. When Chazz wasn't feeling a hundred percent, he was worse than Jimmy set loose with a pack of Skittles.

On second thoughts...

Chazz tipped the packet directly into his mouth before reaching for another, feeling worse than he had before.

Nothing could beat a sugar high when he felt depressed.

Not that it really worked any more.

After thinking about it for less than a moment, he fished through his pockets before locating his mobile, wasting no time as he flicked through the numbers, and finally finding the one that he had been looking for.

_ Jimmy MacElroy. _

His fingers traced over the numbers as he forgot that he carried a touch screen these days, very nearly deleting the number in the process. With a feeling of panic at the very idea, Chazz fumbled with the buttons, still completely unsure of himself, because God damn it, Jimmy had made him get the stupid thing in the first place, and he hadn't even stuck around for long enough to show him how the stupid thing worked.

He watched helplessly as the mobile flew from his grasp and span across the floor to land by a pair of feet that looked strangely familiar.

A hand reached down and Chazzz noticed the manicured nails before following the trail of an arm upwards. He saw glossed lips, an almost-crooked nose, blue eyes, and well-kept blonde hair, conditioned with Mane And Tail.

Chazz gaped as Jimmy picked up the phone and handed it back to him.

"Jimmy!" he said dumbly as the blonde nodded.

"That's right, Chazz, listen, I've been thinking since I left, and I've decided that I want you back."

"You want to skate with me again?"

If Jimmy had replied, then Chazz definitely didn't hear it.

He suddenly found himself distracted by the blonde beauty that had walked in through double doors before approaching the coffee bar and ordering. Janine...

The next thing he knew, they were in his flat, in his bed, and Jimmy was gone, but Chazz wasn't allowed to care, because she was here...

Then he felt a hand shaking his shoulder and words, muffled and screamed all at once assaulted him from all angles.

He opened his eyes, finally registering the barman that had been telling him to leave for the past ten minutes as he tried to close up shop.

Wearily, Chazz climbed to his feet and walked out of the pub, his heart weighing heavily within his chest. It had been a dream. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, unable to believe how exhausted he felt. He hadn't eaten properly in a week, and he hadn't slept properly in what seemed like an age.

The same sort of time span had passed since he'd last seen Janine too. He'd tried, but Robert just kept on stopping him.

And he'd long since given up on seeing Jimmy.

On the verge of shedding irritating little drops of salt water all over the place Chazz stumbled back home, his surroundings blurred as he passed through the front door.

Maybe, just maybe, he thought groggily as he collapsed onto the sofa, he'd overdone it just a little bit too much this time. He could vaguely remember stumbling into his local pub and ordering, already half-drunk. They'd served him easily if only because they'd had the time to get used to him.

It was getting to the point now where Chazz couldn't help but think that if he tried to speak, all that would come out was some sort of frog-like croak.

That frog... He turned his gaze onto it and sat still until it stopped its incessant dancing. As he shook his head to get rid of the image, he wondered why there were five of them when only one had been left behind.

He reached towards it and had to blink when he saw four hands stretching for three frogs. He stopped and looked down at the closest hand until it came into sharper focus and there was only one.

Making good use of his newly found clarity, he finally managed to take the stuffed frog into his arms.

He fell asleep like that.

Jimmy's little froggy.

He'd never been told that the stupid blue thing's name was really Charles.

* * *

Jimmy had tried his best, really and truly, he had. No one could ever tell him that he hadn't. Well, they probably could, but that didn't mean that he had to listen to them.

He gave a slight shrug as he picked up the phone and dialled, hoping that Chazz hadn't moved, or worse, changed his number.

It was alright, though. This was Janine calling, so even if he wanted nothing to do with Jimmy, at least he wouldn't turn down a call from her. He was safe in that respect, but none of those thoughts stopped the painful twinge as he thought about about how much Chazz liked Janine, and how much he must hate Jimmy.

He bit back the sob that threatened to escape his throat as he raised the phone to his ear and listened intently.

It rang.

And rang...

And rang some more...

And a bit more...

And rang....

Rang.

Rang.

Rang.

Rang a bit more...

Jimmy sighed, all ready to hang up when he heard something new.

The ringing had stopped, and there was a faint sound in there, sounding something like someone in pain.

"...hello?" Jimmy asked, wary.

"'lo?" came a croak from the other end.

"Chazz?" he asked uncertainly, half-expecting to hear Hector's voice.

"Jimmy?" came the hopeful voice, still coarse.

His heart skipped a beat, and it was all he could do not to nod stupidly and say that yes, it was him.

Instead, he shook his head, forgetting that he couldn't be seen.

"_Nein_," he replied, remembering his German for once, "It's Janine."

"Janine, hi," Chazz mumbled at the other end of the line, tiredly rubbing a hand over his face as he wondered whether he needed a shave yet. Probably, he decided, when his questing fingers found the ghost of a beard that had begun to sprout across his chin.

"What, er..." he coughed, tried to gather his voice and put it back together, grimaced at the taste of the veritable ash tray that still lingered on his tongue, cleared his throat, hoped it had worked, "What do you want?" he finally managed to ask of her, trying to keep up his demeanour.

"I wonder if your offer was still open?" Jimmy asked, pleased with himself for not stuttering even once. Not that he'd ever stuttered in his life, but you never knew what might happen when you were nervous – anything could come out.

"My offer?" came the tired voice through the phone.

"For dinner."

Dinner? Chazz screwed up his face in thought. He'd asked her out, sure, but that had been last week, hadn't it?

He only realised how long he'd been silent for when Janine spoke again.

"...hello? Are you there?" Jimmy asked, scared he'd found out and that Chazz had decided enough of the games and hung up on him.

"I'm here."

Chazz was amazed to find himself sitting straighter as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, "So, dinner?" he repeated.

"That's right, I wondered when you were free?"

"You know, it's usually the guy that asks the girl out. Not the other way around," he paused for a moment before adding "Chickaling," for good measure.

"...don't you mean 'chickling'?"

"I mean what I say."

Jimmy stared at his phone incredulously. Was that a yes? He gave it a second before asking as much.

"How does Friday sound?"

The blonde hesitated. Friday was the night before the Winter Sports Final.

"...sounds great."

"Eight?"

"Sure."

Chazz hung up a moment later, feeling better already.

He couldn't stop the smile that crossed his face.


	7. Chapter Seven

_Chapter Seven_

As far as Chazz was concerned, Friday couldn't come quick enough. He felt like a child; he'd even pinned up one of those little home-made calendars, counting down the days as he very helpfully crossed them off the moment each one dawned. Monday, then Tuesday, and suddenly, it was Wednesday, and that meant that there were only two days left to go.

While Chazz Michael Michaels practically bounced about his life, Jimmy MacElroy was having a decidedly harder time of things.

What really didn't help was the fact that secretly, he suspected Coach of knowing exactly what it was that he'd arranged; ever since he'd called Chazz on Sunday, he'd been pushed ever harder with his routine – it didn't seem to matter anymore that Jimmy wasn't competing to win, not as far as Coach was concerned. He practised the blonde as hard as he could, constantly pushing the disguised boy as far to his limits as he dared go. MacElroy fell harder, span faster, skated with more precision... Everything about his routine that could be bettered, was.

"No stone must remain unturned, Jimmy. You want to shine so that when you fall, the hearts of your people just wrench for you," Jesse was saying from the sidelines as the blonde figure skater span into quite an ugly and painful-looking sprawl across the ice.

"What stones?" he asked as he pulled himself up with a wary glance about the rink that they'd rented out; had one of their competitors come in with a scoop of gravel when they hadn't been looking? His mind calmed when his scan of the ice came up clear – he must have meant metaphorical stones, _of course_. The moves and the routine!

"Jimmy!" came the bark of the coach from the dancer's side, "Back to work!"

And so, the skater turned back to the ice as Jesse turned his unbelieving eyes on his life partner, "You haven't told him yet."

Of course, it wasn't a question. It would never be a question. Ever.

Robert heaved a defeated sigh, glad that Jimmy was too distracted to hear a word that they were saying. "If you mean Michaels... then no, I haven't. Why would I?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because those two have a date on Friday? And don't make that face. Of course I know – you think Jimmy doesn't tell me everything? They'll go out and Chazz will find out and he'll run away – you know these boys. Think about this, Rob. Jimmy will go wrong at the Games, he'll be so–"

"It doesn't matter because he can't place. They'll test him."

Jesse scowled as he was forced to give up his argument – in something almost akin to a strop, he pushed away from the railings and went to sit in one of the higher rows, pulling on the fingerless gloves that Robert continually berated him for; what good were they for warming your hands if they didn't even cover them?

Of course, the dancer's salute of a middle finger that he'd learnt from Chazz showed his partner _exactly _what they were for.

* * *

Somehow, the blonde had managed to convince himself that he was doing this for his friend's sake; it nearly worked, actually – telling himself every night that he didn't like Chazz like that and that he was only doing it because he knew that his ex-partner might be lonely... It very nearly worked, and that was the honest truth.

And yet... as the day came closer, he couldn't deny the churning of his stomach that seemed to take him over every time he thought of Chazz. He couldn't ignore the way that he'd fumble his routine every five minutes when the face of the lone wolf and the man who'd once stood by him happened to cross his mind.

And above all else, he could not deny the fact that when Friday night came, he practically raced about his little flat to get ready. It wasn't like the first he'd ever been on – the one with Katie. No, this was something very different to that. Here... he felt confident. Maybe it was that he wasn't entirely himself; maybe it was that this was his best and only friend... whatever the case, he couldn't be sure of the truth.

Maybe it was just that he wanted more of what had happened in the changing rooms, and he was just too scared to ask for it.

He didn't know.

But that didn't stop him from getting ready and piling the makeup on as though his life depended on it.

It took an hour-long visit from Jesse to make him tone it down just a little bit.

* * *

Chazz stood in front of his bathroom mirror, arranging and rearranging his jacket before finally deciding that he didn't look so bad. Of course, he never looked bad – he was Chazz Michael Michaels, sex addict. He had never looked bad in all his life, and that was the cold, hard truth of the matter. But for some strange reason, it really mattered tonight that he looked perfect.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5...

...56, 57, 58, 59...

...82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88...

...99, 100.

He laid the Verticoli back into its chest before going to brush his teeth, ignoring the strange little bounce in his step that had absolutely nothing to do with sex addiction.

* * *

So it was that Chazz ended up taking his very male ex-partner out on a very awkward date. Nearly half of it was filled with the older man staring at the German figure skater who was incapable of doing much that wasn't flushing angrily at her plate.

It ended with a flustered Janine making her excuses and going to leave – she was stopped, of course, by Michaels' tongue that was simply relentless in its attempts to make her stay.

But she didn't, and the only comfort that the addict really had left was the knowledge that he would see her tomorrow when she won the gold.

* * *

_**AN: This is back due to popular demand... I've had some issues with college and general health, which is the reason for the long delay since I first created this fic - thanks for the support, everyone. :) Anyone who's still with me out here, thanks. This could all be wrong because I typed it up in a bit of a rush on four hours' sleep - I'll probably edit it another day. I think that Chapter Eight will be the last one, so look out for that. Don't worry, though - anyone that likes this, I've already found ideas for my second Blades fic. I'm pretty excited about it! Thanks for all your patience. MsQueenling. x**_


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